by J Wells
My eyes shoot to Mum, who sits up straight and steadies herself.
“The clock on the dash told me I was already ten minutes late, and with all the holdups this morning there were still fifteen minutes to go before I hit the car park. I undid the top button of my shirt, pulling my collar away from my neck.”
I frown; is he ever going to get to the point? He’s never been one to drone on, so I can only assume there will be a joke at the end of all this. I sit and wait for the punch line.
“My mobile was vibrating in my pocket. Vince, the bloody gaffer, was already checking up on me. I just thought, you know what? So I pulled over in a layby, turned off the ignition and made up my mind. Life’s bollocks, so today I quit my job.”
It’s as though I’ve forgotten to breathe, and for a split second every limb I own freezes, my stomach clenching into a tight knot. He smiles that cheeky smile of his, washing my tension away.
“Very funny.” I pull at the sleeve of his checked shirt. “Sit down.”
He shakes his arm free. “This is no joke, Tash, I’m deadly serious.”
I guess they can sense the tension between us and see a domestic brewing. Eyes that only seconds ago were all on Josh seem to be shifting anywhere else in the room, and the walls feel like they’re closing in.
“What about the mortgage, the bills? I can’t pay them on my wage alone. What about our life together?” I feel my hands trembling and am close to tears. “You needn’t think we’re moving in with Mum and Dad, we’re twenty-seven, not kids!”
The table shakes as elbows bang down.
“Well, thanks a lot, sis, I’m thirty-two, so what does that make me?”
Ammunition is something she doesn’t need. “Adrianna, sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“Yes, you did!”
“Dad’s offered me a stake in his interior design company!” Josh raises his voice.
Looking up, I give an unsavoury grunt. “Since when?”
“Since today, well, officially.”
“It must be your mum who’s talked him into it, coz your dad’s as tight as they come; he’d never part with his business, he’ll take his empire with him to the grave.”
“That shows how well you know him, because in the next few days I’ll own more than half the company. Dad rang and put it to me last night. His hope is that I get on-board before he retires. I think the real reason is that he’s landed an absolute mega contract in the States; I’m heading out there on Friday to see for myself.”
“We’re getting married in three months; seriously, you’re telling me you’re going over to the States?”
“Yeah, stop worrying, it’s only for a couple of weeks, just to get my foot in the door so to speak.”
“Mega contract?” I quiz.
“You could say that. Dad’s shown me the figures, the profit margin, and believe me, Tash, if this comes off, we’ll be set up for life. Who knows, once the wedding’s out of the way we could be heading off for a new life in America.”
Dad’s focus returns to the dining table; even Adrianna’s sullen face has taken a turn for the better. Mum just does her usual thing and bombards Josh with even more questions. Everyone seems happy, so why aren’t I?
America? What if I don’t want a life in America? What if I don’t want a fistful of money? What if I just want normal? I struggle going to the house, or should I say showhome, where Josh’s parents live. Talk about OCD, it’s one place where the word dust doesn’t exist; there’s a place for everything and everything is in its place. Not forgetting the stately home they own in Staffordshire. As a family, their definition of happiness is all tied up neatly in a bow consisting of crisp fifty-pound notes.
“Josh, my job.”
He laughs. “Tash, you’re a make-up artist, and a casual one at that. Stop worrying, you’re not restricted to London, you can take that skill with you anywhere in the world.” He lifts his arms. “What am I saying? If I earn half of what I think I’m going to, you won’t need to work another day for the rest of your life. You’ll be able to relax, enjoy days of leisure.” He winks. “And in a couple of years, who knows, you could be bringing up our child or children.”
I feel like I’m being frogmarched back to my childhood. Wine jumps as his hands shake around the stem of his glass; he’s so excited for us, our future. I don’t know if it’s all in my mind, but sitting here it feels that I’ve got as much say about going to America as I did about the beauty pageants Mum used to enter me in as a kid. I was four years old, but she just couldn’t take a step back and let me be a child. While Adrianna played outside in the mud, I used to sit for hours with my hair in rags. Mum told me it was important, and I had to sit still so my ringlets would fall perfectly into place.
I can picture those false lashes I was made to wear. Adrianna would scream and run away from me, calling them spiders; to be honest, I was scared too. Those long black legs glued to my eyelids, I hated every second of it and would blink continuously, hoping they’d drop off, run away and Mum wouldn’t notice.
Josh lifts his glass, toasting us and our future.
“Gosh, all this wine,” he says, placing a hand on his stomach. “You’ll have to excuse me, would it be okay if I left the table?”
“Josh, we’re not at your Mum and Dad’s … if you need to go, just go.”
He walks from the dining room into the hall.
“Well, that’s you set up for life,” Adrianna snorts. “Just remember, when you’re loaded and living across the pond, give us a thought, don’t forget we’re your family.”
“Adrianna, you’re such a killjoy,” Mum retorts as she seats herself in Josh’s chair at my side.
“Now, here’s for your little surprise.”
I lower my eyelids. I can’t be doing with any more ‘little surprises’ today.
“On our wedding night…” Mum smiles over to Dad, who’s about done with his steak. “…I presented your father with a beautiful portrait of myself, the one that hangs over our bed.”
One of many, I think to myself.
“I want the same for you and Josh. I look at myself in the mirror, and new wrinkles seem to appear every day and I can’t help but notice the dark rings under my eyes.” She runs her fingers over her cheeks. “Even Botox can’t take away the years. I’m not twenty anymore and doesn’t my face show it?”
It’s a question I’m not prepared to answer. However, instinctively I look straight towards Adrianna, whose lips are pulled taut; I can imagine why and what she’s dying to say. Luckily, Mum doesn’t see.
“Beauty is short-lived,” she continues; “however, a portrait’s for life and will never age. Guess what?” She grabs my hand between hers, squeezing my fingers. “Guess what I’ve gone and done, Natasha?”
I’d have to be a little slow not to be able to piece together what she has in mind, but I don’t have it in me to steal her thunder, so I shake my head as if I don’t have a clue.
“I’ve booked a sitting for you with an up-and-coming artist; he’s amazing, I’ve seen some of his work…”
The floorboards creak and a shadow moves as Mum’s words float above me and fall into insignificance. I glance up as Adrianna seats herself back down at the table; I had been so lost in the conversation I hadn’t noticed her get up. She’s fetched the parcel I brought in earlier, and flicking the tape from its edges she begins to open one side and then the other, ripping away the brown paper.
“He does abstract, well, actually I’ve been told he does a bit of everything.”
I smile, nodding my head, but my mind’s elsewhere. Shit, the scan. I look at Mum, trying to goad her to look over at Adrianna. The baby, the scan, I say over and over in my head, trying to transport my thoughts into her mind.
Josh appears at the doorway and Mum says no more, but gets up and returns to her seat.
The next ten minutes are governed by talk of flight tickets and his boarding pass. I try my best to catch Mum’s eye.
“Dessert, anyone?
” Dad presents a dark chocolate soufflé and another large bottle of red.
“What do you think, Tash?” Josh elbows me. “Shall I book us a taxi home, or shall we take the spare bedroom?”
He should have said our room, which is what it was for two years while we saved; I always think of it as our happy room. On Friday nights we’d lie on the bed for hours watching re-runs of Disney films; somehow, I always ended up wearing his socks. Our friends said we were sad, but whatever, we wanted our own place and didn’t have money to waste on pubs or clubs. They were the sad ones; our Friday nights were far more fun spent in the company of Belle, Ariel and Aladdin. We used to joke while sipping from our bottles of Bud that I was Wendy and he was my Peter Pan. We lived in our own little world, our own little Neverland.
I gaze across the table, and as if by magic she’s there one minute and gone the next. Adrianna stands behind Mum’s chair. Mum must have sensed her presence, and tilts her head up.
“Here, Mum. Not that you’re in the slightest bit interested, but I got this for you.” Her words are quiet, and she speaks with very little expression.
She places a white folded card down next to Mum’s dessert bowl; printed on the front is a picture of a stork. Mum prises the two pieces of card apart.
“A picture of your first grandchild.”
Directly on top Adrianna places a small brown teddy bear. He wears a white T-shirt with the words ‘Number 1 Nan’ across the front.
Mum lifts the teddy. “Oh, love…”
She’s unable to say another word as Adrianna butts in.
“By the way, it’s a boy.”
My mouth falls open. “I didn’t think you knew the baby’s sex. So, guess you went back in when I went and got myself a coffee. Been nice if you’d told me.”
Conversations dry up and Mum sits open-mouthed as we all do, watching the small steps Adrianna takes after she excuses herself and leaves the dining room.
“I honestly thought it was next week, I had it written in my diary.”
Heavy footsteps are followed by a door upstairs being slammed shut. Music blares, making the crystal centrepiece on the dining table dance.
I look up under my eyes. “Mum, you know what she’s like.”
“I was going to the hospital, I was going to turn up and surprise her.”
I can almost read that here we go again thought in her mind as Mum gets up from the table and drapes her napkin over the back of her chair.
“I’ll go speak to her.”
I swallow my wine.
“No offence, Mum, but I think you’re the last person she’ll want to see. Sit down, finish your drink; let me go.”
I rap the back of my knuckles on her bedroom door, but there’s no answer. Either she can’t hear me over ‘Slipknot’ or she’s choosing to ignore me. I’m not one to be ignored, so I push open the door.
She sits on the end of the bed, slouched over. My ears are ringing I can barely hear myself think, and stepping over a pile of dirty washing and her laundry basket I reach over and pull the iPod from its docking station on her bedside cabinet.
“Paranoid, am I?”
She doesn’t turn, yet I can feel her eyes glaring at me from her dressing table mirror.
“Told you, didn’t I? Told you she wouldn’t be interested.”
“You’re wrong. Mum was going to turn up at the hospital and surprise you, but with everything else going on she got the weeks mixed up and wrote the wrong date down…”
“Everything else going on? As in your wedding. The wedding you didn’t even want!”
Why do I tell her everything? Why do I feel I need her approval? Maybe it’s her being my older sister, I don’t know. I know she would never use anything against me in a vindictive way and she’s always got my back, but she’s so quick to slip in a snide comment here and there, making me feel like a kid again.
Her eyes leave the mirror and she swivels round on the duvet to face me.
“Wrong date written down? Pfft, how convenient. Tash, it’s always been and always will be about you.”
How many times have we been here, with her self-pitying talk? I think back to her first boyfriend, Glen I think his name was; she was exactly the same with him. I think she would have preferred me to be invisible, or for me to have been a born a boy. When Glen came round I had my orders, and she wouldn’t allow me in the same room. The day of my prom was a joke; he was banned from the house, and she said she didn’t want him to see me in my dress, all made up with my hair done. Twenty-one and Adrianna was jealous of a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl; Glen was twenty-five. As if! It wasn’t surprising he didn’t stay with her long; to be honest I think she drove most of her partners away. Shame is I got on great with most of them, and her insecurities were only ever in her head.
“Thought if I’d had my own little girl I’d have got a look-in with Mum.” She looks down at her stomach. “But it’s team blue, so guess not. Can you see Mum in a pair of old jeans and pleated anorak standing on the sidelines watching my boy kick a football round a muddy field?”
“She watched you play hockey, didn’t she?”
I look at the sour expression that has taken residence on her face. Unbelievable! She’s thirty-two years old yet is acting more like a petulant child than a mother-to-be. I think of all the people out there who can’t have children of their own and I’m at a loss for words. Instead of picking flies, she should be celebrating. In a matter of months she’s going to be a mum herself, holding her baby in her arms.
I have to hold my tongue and literally bite it to stop myself giving her both barrels. I kick an old pair of her slippers out of my way.
“I’ll leave you to it.”
“Here, you may as well have this,” she snaps, and with an underarm throw launches the small pink teddy towards me.
I don’t bother catching it, and let it fall to the floor.
Her voice falters. “Anyway, there’s no doubt that your first will be a girl.”
“For God’s sake, Adrianna, grow up.”
I reach for the door handle and push it open. Mum is standing there and jumps back; God knows what she’s heard.
“Good luck,” I whisper, and leave them to it.
Josh is standing in the hallway, leaning his arm against the bannister.
“Rung the taxi, they’ll be here in ten.”
I slip on my shoes and peer into the dining room. Dad’s walking round the table, clearing the plates and glasses.
“Thanks for dinner,” I call.
He nods in acknowledgement, his face wearing that we’re in for it tonight look.
It’s a warm Monday morning, and the sun’s shining down. I’ve never seen anything quite as vivid green as I drive through the Peak District and approach Matlock town. It’s quaint, almost Victorian in my opinion. I drop down a gear and am pushed back against my cream upholstery as my Mercedes accelerates the steep incline. Old-fashioned archaic-looking houses stand side by side in long lines as if they’re climbing this steep hill with me. A quick glance from one side of the road to the other and I have the strangest of feelings, like the windows aren’t windows at all but eyes staring back at me. Then the houses are gone, though the hill continues. Guided by the satnav on my phone, I drive another half a mile or so.
I turn a bend, and my eyes are greeted by a detached house with weathered stone walls covered in honeysuckle; the building is almost lost as it sits ensconced in greenery. I drive onto a narrow strip of grass outside and pull on the handbrake.
I cup my hand over my eyes, feeling as though the sun mocks me as it plays hide and seek between fair weather clouds. Squinting, I manage to make out the number four engraved on a wall plaque. To check I’m at the right house I reach for my handbag and retrieve a piece of scrap paper on which I scribbled the address before setting out.
I close the car door and look along the uneven path. My gut instinct is telling me to jump back in the car and drive off. My instinct wins and I do just that. Sitting on a
cold wooden stool while some guy paints me is so not me. My will battles with itself; what choice have I got? I can’t throw this gift back in Mum’s face, especially after telling me that she took the money out of her and Dad’s savings. Guess it was her way of feeling involved and paying for something related to the wedding, since Josh’s mum intends on footing the entire bill. We have objected on more than one occasion, but she had an answer for everything and even agreed to pay for our honeymoon to St Lucia. I catch my smile in the visor; at least it’ll be a plane journey we take together.
Thursday night was awful. I sat cross-legged on the bed, folding and passing Josh his clothes and then watching as he placed them strategically in his suitcase. He turned on the TV, searching the channels for a film for us to watch, but I got up and turned the volume down, as I just couldn’t seem to concentrate. The only light-hearted few moments I remember of the evening were when Larry decided to jump on the bed and play tug of war with one of Josh’s new silk ties. Unusually, he didn’t seem to see the funny side and put Larry out on the landing, shutting the door behind him. Josh kept harping on about how much money his dad had spent on kitting him out with suits, shirts and ties. Maybe the tie wasn’t cheap, but it was just a tie after all and he had plenty more, whereas there’s only one Larry.
For two weeks we wouldn’t be together, so my thoughts were to make the most of the little time we had left. I pulled on my black lacy knickers and bra, and danced around the bedroom. Lifting my foot onto the quilt, I kicked the suitcase clean off the bed onto the floor. He grabbed me, told me I was naughty and smacked my arse. Four hours later, we’d tried out every position imaginable, and when we finished I was literally coming up for air; my man’s a fucking stallion.
Still breathing heavily, he rolled me up in the duvet and into his arms. I remember my head touching the pillow, and then his hands gently waking me the following morning. With Larry sitting in the backseat staring out of the window, I drove Josh to the airport. He didn’t utter a word for the entire journey; I could tell how nervous he was the way he kept switching from one radio station to the next and playing with the ends of his hair (a trait I’m sure he’s inherited from me, since I’m positive my fingers were born to twizzle). We gave Larry a reassuring pat on the head, but could hear his cries when we left him alone in the car.